"I am conceited enough to fear that she will always want me," said Rowena, with a little sigh. "I am really fond of her, Geraldine, and so is she of me." "Yes, I know all that; I believe if you were shut up with criminals of the deepest dye you would tell me that you were becoming most attached to them, and felt that you could not live with anyone else. It is your fatal adaptability to your environment. There! With that big word, I've finished." "Well, listen to me then. Hugh wants me to come to him in June. We mean to have no honeymoon, except that perhaps we may stay a few days in Edinburgh on our way down. And you and I must fix the date. Somewhere in the middle of the month." "That's something; now I see light. And what kind of wedding do you mean to have?" "A very quiet one. No friends asked at all. Neither of us wishes it. If you will have me here, I would like to walk into your little village church early one morning, with only you in attendance, and he would like it, too." Geraldine only looked half-satisfied, but Rowena had her way. She spent a very pleasant fortnight with her sister-in-law, and in that time got a simple trousseau together. Mrs. Burke had given her a most generous cheque for a wedding present, but she displeased her sister-in-law by the modesty of her requirements. In her worldly wisdom Geraldine said: "My dear Rowena, you must be handsomely dressed as Hugh's wife. He has one of the biggest properties in that part of the Highlands, and you must not shame him, by going to him in gowns that a minister's wife would choose. He will only have to supplement your trousseau afterwards, if you don't go to him with a thoroughly good outfit, and that is most galling to a woman's self-respect, I always think." "Yes, I see your point," said Rowena humbly, "and I will get all that will be suitable; but as for taking fashionable ball gowns down to Abertarlie, it's ridiculous!" "Don't you intend to be sociable? For two or three months in the year at least you will be in the habit of meeting your neighbours. Do you know that the Arnold Rashleighs have taken Ted's old lodge?" "No, I had not heard it. I don't know them. Who are they?" "She was a McTaggart of Loch Filley. She has two daughters, and a son in the Blues. His mother lives in this part. Quite nice, they are, but not Hugh's sort. Thoroughly up-to-date, and the girls rather strenuous. Think women ought to be in Parliament, and that sort of thing." "Oh dear, I was looking forward to stealing over there, and having a chat with old Granny Mactavish. But I suppose the lodge is empty most of the year." "Of course; and I hope you'll bring Hugh to town for the winter. Don't bury yourselves down there all the year round. You've served an apprenticeship with Mrs. Burke in gadding about, so you'll know how to make him sociable. He used to be a very nice fellow before he married. That marriage soured him. I still think he's not quite good enough for you."